


Cigarettes and Leather

by sherlockollins (sherlokollins)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Greasers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlokollins/pseuds/sherlockollins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is reaching the end of his teenage years.<br/>Dean Winchester is the new guy in town, a head taller, a year younger and a whole lot more confident than Castiel could ever be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cigarettes and Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Please listen to 'Johnny B. Goode' by Chuck Berry during/ before to get a gist of the song!

_Deep down in Louisiana close the New Orleans  
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens_

Cas tapped his toes along to the fast beat of the song seeping through the crackly speaker of his Orionette radio, on the porch step beside him. His off-white sneakers drummed the rhythm out on the faded decked flooring.

_There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood  
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B Good_

He flicked the collar of his leather jacket as he perched his denim-clad ass on the edge of the top step of the sun-bleached stairs, and raised a cigarette to his pink lips. He glanced around the wild front yard, it’s grasses and flowers were escaping from their beds and the path had disappeared amid uncut grass and gunk.

_Who never ever learned to read or write so well  
But he could play the guitar just like ringin a bell_

He couldn’t care less about the unkempt garden; today was a different kind of day. Mom and Dad were away for the weekend. He had the entire house to himself. He breathed in deeply and ran a hand through his thoroughly gelled hair. Cas struck a match lazily and lighted the cigarette perched on his bottom lip.

_Go, go! Go Johnny go go! Go Johnny go go! Go Johnny go go!_

Cas smiled as he let out a lungful of smoke, the tendrils leaving wispy shapes in the still Kansas air. The sun beat down on his surroundings, warming the world around him.

_Johnny be goo-_

Static filled the muggy porch.

The radio had cut out.

‘Ah, shit’. Cas flicked his half-finished cigarette into the scrub in the front yard. The half smile that had painted his face for the past few blissful moments vanished as he turned his body to swipe at the dodgy radio. He bashed it hard and then-

_\- but that little country boy can play_

‘Aaahhhh’ Cas let out a sigh as he leant back onto the porch floor. The smile returned. He then put his hands behind his head and gazed up into the rafters, waiting for something, anything to happen to liven up the humid day. Music and cigarettes were fair enough, but he wanted to see someone, anyone.

Well, not just anyone.

_Go, go! Go Johnny go go! Go Johnny go go! Go Johnny go go!  
Johnny B. Goode._

His mouth breathed out the Chuck Berry lyrics. He was attempting to forget about the gorgeous boy he’d seen briefly in town, with green eyes and coiffed sandy hair. He’d had an air of confidence and sheer perfection around him. Cas closed his eyes and smiled deeper, feet tapping and head bopping along to the jumpy instrumental, mind drifting to the smattering of freckles along the boy’s cheeks and his stupid, but oh so right cowboy boots.

How he wanted to rip the emerald plaid shirt and stonewash jeans and off of him and kiss him senseless. And run his fingers through those soft ash locks. He wanted to count the freckles on his cheeks and sing along to the radio with him.

Cas giggled sheepishly and reached for the cigarette box and matches discarded next to him.

He didn’t notice the green-eyed boy with coiffed sandy hair swaggering up the overgrown path in his tight plaid shirt and cowboy boots. He didn’t take note of the way the man stopped abruptly upon seeing Cas’ relaxed and totally blissful state. He didn’t notice the grin that spread over the boy’s face as he chewed on the toothpick balanced precariously on his lips, or the fact that his right hand was hidden behind his back. Cas was too busy lighting a match and indulging in his nasty habit.

If Cas had known he would’ve stopped Johnny B Goode before the next verse, stood his six foot frame up, smiled and greeted him warmly.

_Very warmly._

But he didn’t know that the man was now fiddling with his collar; procrastinating his next move. He didn’t know that the sandy-haired man was smiling ever more broadly. He started to tap his cowboy boots along to the beat. His right hand was still hidden behind his back, and he spat out the toothpick silently.

_His mother told him “Someday you will be a man,  
And you will be the leader of a big old band._

The man pulled a comb from his back pocket of his jeans, his olive eyes transfixed on Castiel on the porch in front of him. A packet of cigarettes formed a rectangle in his left shirt sleeve; the man’s bulging bicep making its impression larger.

_Many people coming from miles around  
To hear you play your music when the sun go down_

He pulled the comb through his tawny hair; teasing it upwards, coiffing the locks to the extreme.

_Maybe someday your name will be in lights  
Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight_

He slid the black comb back into his pocket.

_Go, go! Go Johnny go go! Go Johnny go go! Go Johnny go go!”_

The last notes played out over the not-so-empty yard.

And the song was over.


End file.
